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A Quarter of a Century 
Years and Poems 

ty 
JOHN G. THOMPSON 

Principal of the Fitclibur^, !MassacKusetts 
State Normal School 

1895-1920 






Copyright 1920 by 
JOHN G. THOMPSON 

This edition is limited to one 
thousand copies, numbered and 
signed by the author. 

This copy is number 



CiJiVwt C<hyli^ 



r 



By Transfer 

SEP £4 1923 



INTRODUCTION 

/^N July 1, 1895, the Fitchburg, (Mass.) 
^^ State Normal School came into exist- 
ence. For twenty-five years it has been 
directed by the author of the twenty-five 
poems included in this little volume. 

The poems were written, at widely sep- 
arated intervals scattered over the twenty- 
five years, to put into concise and more or 
less enduring form some thoughts on educa- 
tion and life as taught by the principal to 
his classes. They are published at the 
request of many who, as students, were 
interested in them and who desire to possess 
them in book form. 

John G. Thompson 

Fitchburg, Mass., 
July I, 1920. 



A QUARTER OF A CENTURY 



I. 


In Memoriam — Margaret V. 


Thompson 


5 


2. 


Get into the Game .... 6 


3- 


The Quest . 






7 


4- 


Love .... 






8 


5- 


Loving 






8 


6. 


To a Child 






9 


7- 


The Offal Cart 






10 


8. 


My Sir Galahad . 






II 


9- 


Horizons 






13 


10. 


Riches 






14 


II. 


The Real and the Ideal 






IS 


12. 


The Symphony . 






17 


13- 


The Interpreter 






17 


14. 


Vision 






18 


15- 


Wisdom 






19 


16. 


The Ego . 






20 


17- 


What Am I? 






21 


18. 


The Prisoner 






22 


19. 


Man's Ways 






23 


20. 


Life More Abundantly 






25 


21. 


Jeanne d'Arc 






26 


22. 


Recompense 






27 


23- 


The Days of my Years 






28 


24. 


Shine On 






30 


25- 


Carry On 






31 



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1. 

ORALIE 

In Memoriam — Margaret V. Thompson, Class of 189 

In a forest beside the sea, 

A sorrowful knight doth dwell 

Alone with bird and flower and tree; 

They mourn with him — they loved her well. 

Across the path of that sea, 
A ship and but one may fare, 
The ship that carries sweet Oralie, 
That bore her away from there. 

Away o'er the gray, gray sea 
She sailed from his love and pain; 
And he dreams that sweet Oralie 
Some day will sail back again. 

The birds from the marshes call, 
"Oralie, Oralie, 'alie," 
And a thrush from the trees lets fall 
A tenderly sweet "Oralie." 

The flowers send their perfumes sweet 
On the winds ever crossing the sea; 
The flowers and the winds both entreat 
"Come back to your knight, Oralie!" 



But she will never return. 
Will never sail over the sea; 
Imprisoned his soul must yearn 
For the loved and lost Oralie. 



2. 

GET INTO THE GAME 

There is nothing to do today! 
Only to eat and to sleep, 
Only to work and to keep 
The faith with the Master — 
And this is nothing but play. 

There is nothing to do today! 
Only to live and to learn, 
Only to strive and to yearn 
For the praise of the Master — 
And this is nothing but play. 

There is nothing to do today! 
Only to stand and to serve. 
Only to get and deserve 
The love of the Master — 
And this is nothing but play. 

There is nothing to do today! 
Only to die and to rest, 
Only to know this is best — 
The way of the Master — 
And this is nothing but play. 

There is nothing hut play today! 
Today is all our life; 
Its pain, its joy, and its strife. 
We play for the Master, — 
Get into the game and play! 



3- 
THE QUEST 

A knight fared on through a beautiful world 
On a mission to him unknown; 

At his left and a little behind, there rode 
The self of his deeds alone. 

At his right and a length before sped on, 
Him, none but the knight might see, 

A braver heart and a purer soul. 
The self that he longed to be. 

And ever the three rode on through the world 

With him at the left behind; 
Till never the knight would look at him, 

Feeble and foul and blind. 

Desperately on they drave, these three. 

With him at the right before. 
While the knight rode furiously after him 

And thought of the world no more. 

Forever on, he must ride on his quest 
And peace can be his no more. 

Till the one at his left he has dropped from sight 
And o'ertaken the one before. 

Thus ages ago the three fared on. 

And on they fare today. 
With him at the left a little behind. 

The right still leading the way. 



4- 
LOVE 

Dante loved his Beatrice, 
And because he loved her so 
Made for men the Paradiso, 
Inferno, Purgatorio. 

Christ so loved a world of sinners 
That he came to earth to die, 
Through his suffering atoning 
For all men both low and high. 

Love is always inspiration, 
Will to do — to die — to live — 
And calls forth from every nature 
The richest offering it can give. 



5- 
LOVING 

Loving is giving; — 
Giving the hand and the brain and the heart. 
Giving in labor, in science, in art. 
Giving to all and giving to one 
Whatever is done. 

Loving is living; — 
Living in thought and in word and in deed. 
Living in power and in wealth or in need. 
Living for one and living for all. 
Where Duty may call. 

Loving is giving and loving is living, — 
Giving our best and living our best. 
Giving to others and living for others. 
And leaving to God the rest. 



TO A CHILD 

I love the sweetness of the flower, 
The brightness of the star, 
The mystery of twilight hour. 
The hills dark blue and far. 

The sweetness feeds my hungry heart. 
The brightness stirs my soul, 
The mystery's my magic art. 
The hills my longed-for goal. 

I find them all and more in you — 

A goal beyond the hills. 

The sweetness, brightness, — mystery, too, 

Of stars and daffodils. 



7. 

THE OFFAL CART 

He drove an offal-cart 
Offensive to both smell and sight; 
But on his coat above his heart, 
There lay a rose of spotless white. 

My eye hung to the rose — 
Forgot offending sight and smell — 
As must have clung the eyes of those 
Who dared to look on Christ in Hell. 

I felt in every heart, 
However black with guilt and sin. 
There blooms a rose, unseen, apart. 
Of spotless purity within. 

The eye may learn to see 

In human hearts the fair white rose; 

And so see not impurity 

Where also fragrant beauty blows. 



MY SIR GALAHAD 

My knight is no aristocrat, 

He knows no class nor creed. 

A man may have a fortune 

Or a man may be in need, — 

But if he loves his fellows 

And tries to do his best, 

My knight will give him welcome. 

For he has met the test. 

Such men are glad when Fortune brings, 

To help them play their part, 

Good fellowship in simple things 

That cheer the human heart. 

My knight is not a high-brow, 

And Browning rarely reads; 

He has no row with culture. 

But he believes in deeds. 

So when a fellow's down and out, 

He helps him to his feet, 

And cheers his wife and children 

With clothes and bread and meat, — 

For his religion brings 

To every man a welcome part 

In the kindly, helpful things 

That touch the human heart. 

My knight's a regular human 
With hands and heart and head. 
He never knows he's beaten 
And never believes he's dead. 
But he marks another's failure 
In the fight with life or death, 



And he stands within the sTiadow 

With a catch in voice and breath, 

Trusting his presence brings, 

With his halting, homely art, 

Some hope to those who face the things 

That break the human heart. 

The world is not a Paradise, 

For men are savage still; 

'Tis not good cheer and charity, 

But outrage, rob, and kill; 

And never did this bloody sphere 

Need men so much before 

Who learn to love their fellow-men 

Not less each year, but more; 

Who strive in simple, manly ways, 

By each one doing his part, 

To make the world more worthy Him 

Who made the human heart. 



9. 

HORIZONS 

The Child 
I wonder who lives where the sky comes down, 
Where the sky comes down to the ground; 
I wonder if night ever comes to them there, 
Are days ever dark or foggy the air. 
Or does the sun always shine, 
And the traveling stars come so near 
That a child with a wagon like mine 
Might hitch it to one without fear. 

The Man 
I wonder who lives where Heaven comes down. 
If Heaven comes down upon earth; 
I wonder if trials ever come to them there. 
Or are ways always clear and deeds ever fair; 
And does light always shine, 
And the right and the good stand so clear 
That a heart with a yearning like mine 
Would love them at once without fear. 



13 



10. 

RICHES 

No man is richer than I! 
The brook, the mountain, the star, 
The sea, the earth, and the sky, 
My dependencies are. 

No man is richer than I! 
Egyptian and Jew and Chinee, 
Greek, Roman, and Romany Rye 
Pay tribute to me. 

No man is richer than I! 
Beethoven's rythmical beat, 
Phidias' hand and Raphael's eye 
Lay gifts at my feet. 

No man is richer than I! 
For nature, man, and his art 
Are mine, and satisfy 
My mind and my heart. 



14 



II. 
THE REAL AND THE IDEAL 

Shakespeare 

The fitful life of man as he struts and frets 

Among his petty fellows, lord today of earth 

And sea, tomorrow lower than the beasts, 

Naked, raving, shelterless; his dreams 

Of glory, lust for power, greed of gold; 

His pride, ambitions, wars; his hopes and fears; 

His loves, and hates; his laughter and his mourning; 

His acts that make or mar, that never die 

But moved and moving under moral law 

Return at length to comfort or to curse, — 

This is our English Shakespeare's self-set theme, 

Sublime, and wrought in power and beauty such 

That Hamlet, Rosalind, and Imogen, 

Ophelia, Shylock, Falstaff, and Macbeth, 

Creations of the god-like poet's brain. 

Shall always in the minds and hearts of men. 

As truly laugh and dream, and strive and hate. 

As truly live and love as they that breathe. 

The Bible 

The pregnant meaning of the life of man, 

Less guided than the beast, needing all. 

Fearing all, yet hoping all; the strength 

Of weakness and the power of purity; 

The feebleness of force; the foolishness 

Of lust and greed and pride and love of self; 

The dream which raises man above his fears 

And hopes, as he staggers on with feet 

Of clay through his brief span of years, and ever 



IS 



Feebly gropes toward Heaven — the dream 

Of immortality; Omnipotence, 

Infinity, firing the frail and finite 

So that he dares to look beyond the stars — 

The breath of God within the crumbling clay; 

Such is the Hebrew race's burning theme. 

So wrought through twenty centuries of thought 

And suffering, that no human cry remains 

Unanswered, no heart hunger unappeased. 



i6 



12. 

THE SYMPHONY 

All is rhythm and vibration, 
From the cold and lifeless clod 
To the highest revelation 
Of the handiwork of God. 

All is music, then, creating 
Mind and matter, life and death, 
Soul and body, loving, hating. 
Smiling eye, and failing breath. 

You a tone and I another. 
All about us myriads are. 
On this globe and every other, 
To the last most distant star. 



When in the symphony's completeness 
Every tone is harmonized, 
Some in discords, some in sweetness. 
The Master's will is realized. 



13. 

THE INTERPRETER 

The mountain and the valley and the stream 
Are beautiful beyond the artist's dream; 
But it is night without a single star. 
And no eye can see or know how fair they are. 

So years of work, of joy and pain and strife 
May be as beautiful as dreams of future life; 
But unless love shines above them like a star, 
The soul can never know how fair they are. 

17 



14. 

VISION 

In darkness I climbed the side of the mountains, 
O'er a path that left me weary and sore, 
Though often I stopped to drink from the fountains 
That had given strength to toilers before. 

As nearer and nearer the summit I faltered, 

In the darkness, light seemed to dawn and to grow; 

My pathway grew straight — the mountain seemed 

altered. 
And I left all the sadness and struggle below. 

And when, at the end, I stood on the summit 
And could gaze on the region until then unseen, 
I rejoiced in the climb from the base to the summit. 
And understood the sorrow and toiling between. 



i8 



15. 

WISDOM 

She is the gleam of the laughing brook, 
A nymph, through the tremulous trees, 
Luring one to an enchanted nook. 
To her and her mysteries. 

She is the peace of the silent pool. 
Holding the earth and sky, — 
Hid in her heart, so placid and cool. 
Life and its secrets lie. 

She is the force of the waterfall. 
Rushing to find its place. 
Impatiently pounding th' unyielding wall, 
Its limits in time and space. 

Would I were the ocean to whom she turns 
And into whose arms she creeps. 
The immortal lover for whom she yearns 
Till in his bosom she sleeps. 



19 



16. 

THE EGO 

What am I? 

I am the sum of all my experiences: 

All that I have felt, 

All that I have known, 

All that I have willed and done, — 

That and more am I. 

I have touched the world of matter 

And have found it cold, remorseless, and exacting. 

I would reject it and forget it, 

But alas I cannot — 

It presses me on every side, 

And through it alone can I make known 

That I am I. 

I have touched the realm of life 

And have found it sacrificing, selfish, cruel, and kind. 

I would hate it, I would love it, 

Yet I must be of it. 

For from it and it alone 

Can I gather more abundantly 

The life that is my own. 



17. 

WHAT AM I? 

I am more than the sum of all my experiences, 
As my nerve and muscle and brain 
Are more than the air and the food and the drink 
That sustain me. 

I am more than a part of all my progenitors, 
As my glance and my smile and my speech 
Are more than my eye and my lips and my tongue 
That express them. 

Grown am I from the soil of all my inheritance. 
As the upas, the thistle, and rose, 
Each grows from a soil that is different, yet fit 
To produce it. 

Like a seed expanding, struggling, developing, 
As the wind and the rain and the heat 
Help determine its growth, so has experience 
Influenced mine. 

I am more than the seed, the soil, and the climate. 
As my brain and my heart and my soul 
Unceasingly think, feel, and then know, 
For I use them. 

I use life and its joys, its labors and sorrows. 
All that it gave me at birth and in growth, 
As the inevitable words of a story or song, 
The spirit is I. 



18. 

THE PRISONER 

My soul looks out through prison bars, 
Inquiring and alone, 
Upon the world, the sun, the stars. 
So strange and so unknown. 

My soul looks out through prison bars 
At other prisoners here, 
From haughty kings and hordes of Mars, 
To peasants dumb with fear. 

My soul looks out through prison bars 
And sees Infinity 

In earth and men and speaking stars. 
In everything I see. 

Nozv I would break my prison walls! 
But no, it may not be — 
Through prisoning flesh my spirit calls, 
So must Thou answer me. 



19. 

MAN'S WAYS 

All man's ways are seven, 
And seven were they then, 
When God's gift from heaven 
Came down on earth to men. 

The ass ior foolishness 
Gazed with vacant stare 
At Mary's fond caress 
Of the babe a-lying there. 

For wisdom came the three. 
Of all the world the wise. 
Who in worship bent the knee 
And saw the cross arise. 

For poverty — the stable. 
The manger, and the hay. 
Where amid the Babel 
Of the feast the Saviour lay. 

The gifts and frankincense 
Were wealth in that far day. 
For blessed innocence 
That in the manger lay. 

The ox for labor stood. 
Armed with useless horns, 
And saw the pure and good 
Crowned with cruel thorns. 

Aspiration was the star. 
Of all stars in the sky, 
That led men from afar 
To Him who came to die. 



23 



And love the highest good, 
And source of all the rest, 
Was holy motherhood 
And babe at mother's breast. 



All man's ways are seven, 
And seven God symboled them. 
When Christ came down from heaven, 
A babe at Bethlehem. 



24 



20. 

LIFE MORE ABUNDANTLY 

Life Is for joy, I thought — 

And for joy I sought. 

I roamed the world and fed on beauty; 

I feasted, gamed, and danced; I knew no other duty; 

My cup was filled with joy, and filled to overflowing, — 

And yet when I had tasted it, and tasted once again, 

I knew that not for this alone was life breathed into men. 

Life is for love, I said — 

And with love I wed. 

Then life seemed new and well worth living, 

In love and joy my days passed on without misgiving; 

My heart, my life were filled with love, — with love 

unbounded, — 
And yet as time fled on, a yearning grew within my soul 
For something more — and then I knew that love was 

not the whole. 

Life is for work, I cried — 

And at work I tried. 

I added to man's wealth by labor. 

And in the struggling army fought beside my neighbor; 

My hours were crowned with deep content and peace 
abiding, — 

But yet my work brought me but little joy for some- 
thing done. 

And in my heart I knew the best of life was not thus won. 

Life Is for growth In life — 
For growth I made my strife; 
I felt, I thought, I acted, trying 
To realize the Possible within me lying, — 
And once again I met with joy and love and labor. 
For as I worked, I loved my work as It my Self expressed ; 
And In my joy I learned at last why man with life is 
blessed. 

25 



21. 

JEANNE D'ARC 

The body of man is wakened to the way 

Of that which we in ignorance call life; 

Through the impenetrable dark, 

God reaches forth His hand to the inert clay 

And to it springs the spark; 

And man is formed and quickened; 

And loves and thinks and dreams. 

The spark is flashed by God from on high, 
A stab of the force which moves all things; 
Then, through his loves and dreams, man grows 
A soul within himself that shall not die 
When to follow his chosen best, 
His life is gladly given 
And smiling, he goes West. 

But when the dream of dreams is drowned in tears, 

When that which made the human life 

Seem God-like and immortal. 

Proves a mirage and disappears 

As man draws near the portal, 

The soul itself is offered then, 

A sacrifice supreme. 

For me all dreams are one — and the dream is this: 

Of a trail that leads through eternity, 

And that some day I'll be going 

Down that trail of work and love in bliss; 

When the last sad hour is done. 

Shall I go West to follow the dream.'' 

Or shall I have lost it and have made 

The sacrifice supreme? 



26 



22. 

RECOMPENSE 

The day's work is done 
And what is the pay? 
At setting of sun 
Are you glad of the day? 
Fair deeds done for love 
Shine at close of the day 
As stars shine above — 
This is my pay. 

The life's work is done, 
Its smiles and its tears; 
At set of life's sun 
Are you paid for the years? 
The things I have done, 
Those tried for in vain. 
The love I have won, — 
This is my gain. 



27 



23. 

THE DAYS OF MY YEARS 

The days of my years are those 

When conquering difficulties, drudgery, and laziness, 

I soar on pinions to the skies; 

When the mighty spirit in me, the God, 

Will exercise his function, 

And dreaming, daring, designing. 

Molds the clay of a new being, 

Touched with beauty and forever animate. 

The days of my life are those 

When, disdaining finite bonds and limitations, 

The life-giving power of the Maker is mine — I create. 

The days of my years are those 

When forgetting unkindness, ingratitude, and hatred, 

I fly untrammeled to the stars; 

When the Christ, the serving soul within me. 

Fires the brain, the glance, and the heart-beat, 

And pitying, helping, guiding, 

Sees the gold in the dross of my fellows. 

In those below me as in those above; 

The days of my life are those 

When subduing envies, greeds, ambitions, 

With the humble heart of the Master, I serve — and I love. 

The days of my years are those 

When the wondering clod sees with more than sight, 

And the skies and the stars are here; 



28 



When the mind, the haughty Master of Me, 
Neglects to drive his servant. 
And through the semi-conscious darkness, 
Comes the flash that shows the meaning 
Of all in Heaven above and earth below. 

The days of my life are those 

When losing myself — my body and mind — 

The Infinite Spirit touches my soul — and I know. 

The days of my years are three score years and ten, 
And if by reason of strength they be four score years, 
Yet is their strength — not labor and sorrow. 
But the rapturous joy of the Maker at work. 
The content the way of the Master can give. 
The interpreting touch of the Infinite Spirit — 
The dreams I create, the service I love. 
The truth that I know — the days that I live. 



29 



24. 

SHINE ON! 

A feeble candle in great darkness shining 

For a brief hour and throwing its little light 

Fitfully along the way — such is man. 

A mighty orb resplendent, brightly gleaming, 

Banishing the darkness and forever 

Lighting all the way — such is God. 

Doubt not! The flickering light of little candle 

And the transcendent gleam of mighty orb 

Are one — in nature and in kind alike. 



30 



25. 

CARRY ON! 

Let the mind be like a river 
Flowing strong and sweet; 
Not like a muddy puddle 
In a dirty street — 

Think noble thoughts! 

Let the heart be like the heavens 
Where the travelers fly; 
Not like the sunless cellars 
That never see the sky — 
Dream lofty dreams! 

Let the will be like the flower 
That slowly breaks the stone; 
Not like the clinging creepers 
Powerless to stand alone — 
Do worthy deeds! 

For life is like an open highway 
A challenge in its call, 
Not like a back-yard alley 
Ending in a wall — 
Carry On! 



31 



H17 89 



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